Fast Friends
by withinadream27
Summary: Courfeyrac is one of Marius's dearest friends, and Marius has been wondering if he might be in love-until a conversation is overheard, Marius jumps to conclusions, and things go wrong in the way they so often do when he's involved.


Courfeyrac had been so kind since he'd invited Marius to stay with him. Marius still had trouble believing that he'd had the luck to meet such a dear friend, or that Courfeyrac considered him a friend at all, sometimes.

He hadn't even believed that they _were_ friends, at first. Surely Courfeyrac had merely taken him in out of some misguided sense of generosity, and felt trapped into hosting him. And when Marius had grown accustomed to the idea that they were well and truly friends, another worry took its place: surely if Courfeyrac _had_ considered him a friend before, he'd long since grown weary of his company.

Somehow, without any effort on Marius's part, these fears faded. He realized one day that he'd stopped wondering at the truth behind each time Courfeyrac called him friend, stopped scrutinizing each of Courfeyrac's smiles for sincerity. (He still grinned like a fool sometimes when he thought about just how close of a friend he'd found in Courfeyrac, but he was nearly certain that wasn't terribly unusual. Friends were meant to make one happy, weren't they?)

As the weeks passed, Marius began to wonder if they could be something more than friends. Or perhaps _more_ was the wrong word, for there was nothing lesser about the bond they shared now. Something different, he could call it, something just to the right of what they had now. He had to wonder, too, if Courfeyrac felt the same way—he didn't want to assume, but given the way he caught Courfeyrac looking at him on occasion, it seemed possible.

The first time Marius nearly confessed his feelings, they were eating dinner together. The apartment was warm and cozy, and Courfeyrac was laughing about something he'd said, and it occurred to Marius how much he wanted things to stay like this forever. The moment after he'd opened his mouth to speak, he remembered how much could go wrong if he'd misunderstood Courfeyrac's cues. Maybe he should wait, just a bit, to be sure.

The second time, they'd gone out to the theater. Marius spent nearly as much time watching Courfeyrac as he did the stage. It would be so easy to lean over and whisper in Courfeyrac's ear, Marius thought, or pull him aside as they left. But what if things went wrong? It would ruin the night, and tickets had been so expensive…no it was better to wait.

There were many more moments, and each time Marius found the words trapped in his throat. It struck him one afternoon, watching Courfeyrac rifle through his closet, that there was never going to be a right time (or maybe that every time could be the right time). He would have to be brave. This was worth it; Courfeyrac was worth it. "Er, Courfeyrac, could I…do you have time to talk?"

"Any other day, my friend." Courfeyrac smiled apologetically. "I'm meant to meet Marguerite soon. I'll be home tonight, though."

_Marguerite_, Marius thought as he watched Courfeyrac leave. The name hit him like a dagger through the heart. As far as he could remember, he hadn't heard the name before. But how could he have missed something so important? At least he'd found out about Courfeyrac's lover before he'd embarrassed himself with some dramatic confession of his emotions.

By the time Courfeyrac returned, Marius had come to terms with his mistake. Nothing had changed, really. He still had his friend, and if they were to remain as only friends, so be it. Judging by the smile on Courfeyrac's face, he was happy indeed with his Marguerite, and Marius didn't want to ruin that.

"What was it you wanted to talk about, Marius?"

"Oh, I'm just…I'm so glad to have you as a friend."

"As am I." Courfeyrac drew him into a hug, and Marius tried to remember that he hadn't lost anything. Courfeyrac was his friend, and that was enough.

He had to know more about her, Marius decided the next day. He would bring up the topic the next time it seemed natural, and Courfeyrac would never suspect his true reasons for asking after her.

That afternoon, he was still trying to find the right moment to ask.

"Marius," Courfeyrac said, "is something on your mind?"

"This Marguerite. How long have you known her?"

"For most of my life." Courfeyrac laughed, looking a bit befuddled at the question, and Marius wished he'd had the sense to wait for a more opportune time to pose his question. Well, it was too late to go back now.

"And you love her?"

"I didn't have much choice in the matter." There was some emotion in Courfeyrac's voice that Marius couldn't place.

It was an arranged marriage, then. Marius would have to do the honorable thing and cease his pursuit of Courfeyrac. He couldn't cause a rift in his friend's relationship. It was better for both of them if he kept his distance from Courfeyrac from now on.

It was difficult, at first, to hold fast to his convictions. Marius hadn't realized how demonstrative Courfeyrac tended to be until he began trying to avoid his friend's touch. For Courfeyrac _was_ his friend, after all, and Marius didn't want to jeopardize that. It seemed wrong to indulge the pleasure he drew from Courfeyrac's hugs, the warmth of his leg brushing Marius's when they sat together. Each bit of contact only reminded him of what he couldn't have. Each time Marius ducked away from him, Courfeyrac looked hurt, but it was better this way. Marius only wished he could explain.

To his great chagrin, Marius's actions didn't seem to deter Courfeyrac at all. Which was a very uncharitable thing to think—Courfeyrac was just being friendly. He was just a bit more physical with his friends than Marius. He would certainly stop if he realized Marius wanted him to (which was exactly why Marius didn't tell him). Courfeyrac was a good man. He wouldn't make advances on Marius when he was promised to someone else. If some of his actions seemed romantic in nature, well, Marius had a long history of misinterpreting things like that.

Sometimes, though, Marius couldn't help but wonder if there was something more than friendship behind Courfeyrac's actions. One had to admit, people didn't usually stare at their friends with such fervor in their eyes, or gently rest a hand on their knee, or bite at their lip like they were trying to work up the nerve to say something, as Courfeyrac had been doing all night.

Marius had nearly convinced himself of a platonic reading of the night's events when Courfeyrac nervously cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Tell me if I've been misreading your cues, but…I love you, Marius, and I think you feel the same way, and I would very much like to kiss you."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Marius whispered.

"Oh." Courfeyrac's face fell. "If you don't reciprocate my feelings, then of course I won't press you."

"It's not that! Only…what will Marguerite think?"

"She doesn't have to know," Courfeyrac said, a strange expression twisting across his face. "She doesn't have a say in who I spend my time with—"

"I want this, Courfeyrac, you have no idea how much, but it would be wrong to take you from the one you're promised to—"

Clarity flashed across Courfeyrac's face, and he burst out laughing. Between guffaws, he managed to stammer, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh at you, but I fear you've drawn quite the wrong conclusion about my relationship with Marguerite. We're not lovers, I promise." He trailed off into laughter again.

"You said you loved her."

"Yes, because she's my sister, Marius."

His sister. Marius turned the words over in his mind, and his face began to burn. "I didn't know!" God, he'd made such a fool of himself.

Courfeyrac put a hand on his. "It's all right. I'm not angry, truly. Does this change your answer?"

Marius answered with a kiss, and Courfeyrac laughed happily.

"I hope you'll let me tell this story to Marguerite when I introduce you to her."

"You wouldn't dare. She'll think me a fool!"

"She'll think you a wonderful young man, and the fact that she'll find your misconception absolutely hilarious won't change that. She _is_ my sister, after all—we share our good taste in friends, so she'll take to you right away."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Marius muttered.

Courfeyrac silenced him with a kiss. "She'll love you, as I love you." Upon consideration, he retracted his claim with a smirk and a, "Well, maybe not quite as I love you."

"We can only hope." Marius leaned into Courfeyrac's embrace, a grin spreading across his face as he thought once again of how lucky he was to have Courfeyrac as a friend, and how excited he was to follow this new path their friendship was taking. Surely, no man could consider himself more fortunate than Marius Pontmercy.


End file.
